Object
by Samberlina
Summary: Things didn't turn out so well for Harry in the graveyard. What if Voldemort realised why the boy was so similar to him, and decided to act upon it? non-canon, Horcrux Harry, slight insinuation of HP/LV. One shot, may continue on.


Haven't written anything for quite a while, so I thought I'd attempt to get back into the swing of things. Sorry for any spelling mistakes and apologies if it's dribble (eep!) I originally only planned this as a one shot, but I may continue to write if people like it, as it was extremely fun to write. I would love to hear any of your thoughts, and whether or not it could be any good continued.

Disclaimer: Obviously, Harry Potter belongs to JKR, and I'm sure everyone will recognise that the top italics are her words, straight from GOF.

Thanks for reading!

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**Object**

_His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice … this is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it … but no matter. I can touch him now._

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Slitted red eyes fell closed upon making contact with the boy's cheek, a small frown gracing his features. The electric spark that raced through his hand upon contact with the teenager was unusual, but not totally unfamiliar. Slowly reopening his eyes, he cocked his head like a curious cat, watching the boy writhe under his touch, face screwed up with pain. With an air of indifference, Voldemort stepped back from the young saviour, granting him a moment's reprieve at the loss of body contact. The boy cracked open watering eyes, shooting his most defiant glare back at the newly risen lord, teeth gritted around the gag.

The surrounding Death Eaters remained oblivious to their master's pause, continuing to lightly chuckle at the bound teenager who renewed his struggling with newfound strength, tugging hopelessly at the ropes that tethered him to the headstone. Growing impatient, Voldemort lazily raised a hand, the boy watching his movements suspiciously.

"Enough."

The words were spoken softly, but silence immediately fell around him, all eyes moving to his person, although some continued to flicker to the bound child before him. Locking eyes with Potter, he leant forward, smirking in satisfaction as the boy squirmed backwards, desperate to put what little distance he could from the looming figure. Without removing his eyes from the boy, he stepped closer, roughly grabbing the boys' hair, ignoring the shuddering form beneath his grip as he yanked it up, exposing the famous scar. He leant forward, studying the old mark with interest – it was an angry red, looking just shy of splitting open from his close proximity. He once again raised one long, white finger, pressing it directly to the mark, paying no attention as Potter gave a pained gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the blinding pain.

And again, the same spark shot through his body, radiating up his arm the longer he remained attached to the boy.

Smiling cruelly, he removed the digit, but this time the boy didn't stir, having fallen unconscious to escape the onslaught of pain. He finally released the boy's hair, causing his head to loll forward, chin resting against his neck, and earning a few sniggers from his servants at the pathetic sight. Straightening up, his eyes roved over the untrimmed grass, brightly lit from the lights of his servants wands.

"Come, Nagini."

The soft hiss was barely heard over the nervous breathing of his Death Eaters, but his familiar responded promptly, slithering forward past Avery, who twitched slightly, but wisely kept his ground, eyeing the large reptile as she swept towards her master. Reaching Voldemort, she raised herself, entwining her body up his robed legs before settling comfortably at his midriff, tongue flickering out to taste her master's hands as he gently lifted her from his body, stretching out to present her to the unconscious boy.

"Nagini," Voldemort hissed, stroking the top of her head with one finger, "what does Potter smell like to you?"

Reaching out, Nagini transferred herself to the bound child, tongue flickering out against the exposed skin of the boy's neck, sampling the taste of the teenager herself. Satisfied, she dropped from the body, rewrapping herself around her master, comforted by the warmth he provided.

"He smells … familiar. Tainted, somehow, but he smells like you, master. His smell makes me feel the need to protect him, like I would a hatchling."

"How … interesting," Voldemort hissed, red eyes bright. He, too, had felt the fleeting urge to protect the brat upon flesh contact, chalking it up to a result from the protection his mother had given him. True, he hadn't felt the protective feeling nor spark through his body before when he was in the same vicinity as Potter, but he had never had physical contact with the teenager before now, either.

And the way the brats scar had reacted to him was peculiar.

Not to mention the child smelt of him, according to Nagini.

Red eyes widened slightly as he thought back to the night the child had bested him, exhaling loudly through his nose, nostrils flaring.

_Impossible!_

The pain he had felt as his spell backfired, the utter agony he was thrust into. His last thoughts were about whether or not his body was literally splitting apart, because it had certainly felt like it.

Splitting … apart.

_It could be possible, _he mused, focussing on the bound boy in a new light. It would certainly explain the pain he had gone through, the scar which looked as fresh as the day it was given to him, not to mention his scent.

And the boy was a Parselmouth!

The pathetic traitor, Wormtail, had let that one slip. It had shocked him that he boy possessed a hereditary trait, passed down from the great Salazar Slytherin himself, yet he came from a family with no descendants to the man.

The answer was clear as day.

He let out a low chuckle, slowly rising in volume as the situation sunk in. Around him, his Death Eaters shifted nervously, unsure of the sudden bout of laughter from their master. Nagini raised her head from his midriff, tongue flickering towards the docile servants as she tasted the sudden change of emotion from his followers.

"Well," Voldemort hissed softly, eyes gleaming with something akin to excitement. "This changes things."

Ignoring the confused mutterings of his servants, Voldemort stepped forward, releasing Potter from his binds with one simple flick of his wand. Grabbing the prone figure before he could hit the ground, he placed an arm underneath the boy's legs and shoulders, scooping him up against his body, Potter's head lolling lifelessly against his chest. Nagini hissed warningly as she was jostled before moving to the boy's stomach, coiling around the motionless body in her masters arms and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Turning to face his followers, Voldemort gave a satisfied smirk at the wide eyes that were visible behind the white masks, no doubt wondering why he handled the brat with such care instead of sending him on his way with a bolt of green light from his wand. Ignoring them, he strode forward, coming to a rest before a bemused Lucius Malfoy, the man once again hastening to his knees at his masters attention, eyes fixed upon the ground.

"My Lord?"

Resisting the urge to let out another chuckle at the man's docile behaviour, Voldemort smirked at the male down by his feet. He chose to be merciful, instead of letting the man stew in the memories of his past mistakes. "I require the hospitality of your manor, Lucius."

The submissive servant froze, hesitating as his master's hissed words registered in his head. He should have been prepared for it, having the most comfortable lifestyle out of the remaining Death Eaters. Of course his master would only expect the best, but to command him to willingly subject his _wife_ and _son_ so soon to the temperamental man … he wasn't prepared for it.

His hesitation was costly, the Dark Lord not needing Legilimency to realise what thoughts raced around his mind, if the tell-tale smirk that pulled at his thin lips was any indication.

"_Crucio!"_

With cruel satisfaction, Voldemort relished in the power behind the spell, the familiarity of the curse flowing through the wand held in his fingertips, and the way his servant thrashed and screamed on the ground, his mask flying off from the bout of pain he was thrust into. Eyes raising from the pitiful figure to his standing followers he breathed in deeply, almost tasting the fear radiating off them as they watched their fellow servant fall to his influence.

It was positively _delicious_.

He raised his wand, effectively ending his servant of torment, Lucius' shrieks of pain finally falling silent, leaving an echoing silence around the graveyard. His surrounding Death Eaters remained quiet, no doubt holding their breath in anticipation, as the aristocrat staggered to his feet, his head remaining low in submission.

"O-of course, My Lord. You are always welcome in the house of Malfoy. I am honoured if you were to reside there, in fact.

"Honoured, Lucius?" Voldemort chuckled, still making an impressive figure with an unconscious boy in his arms. "How very … _gracious_ of you." He hissed, taking great satisfaction of the barely noticeable flinch that his servant gave.

Lucius remained silent, nerves clenching in anticipation of another round of pain. Thankfully, it never came, Voldemort giving one last chuckle of amusement before addressing him.

"You're dismissed, Lucius. I will be there momentarily, have a room ready for my arrival. Best brush up on your appearance first, though," the Dark Lord smirked, before turning from the dishevelled figure. "A man of your influence shouldn't be getting around like that, I'm sure your family would be _greatly_ concerned."

Ignoring the barely contained threat, the blonde aristocrat inclined his head once more, Apparating from the graveyard with a loud _crack_, leaving all eyes to once again fall to the imposing figure.

"Continue on with your normal lives," Voldemort whispered, pocketing his wand in favour of running one white hand down the body of his snake, who hissed in pleasure. "Leave the coward and the traitor to me, and leave this for the Aurors," he sneered before turning and Disapparating from the scene, departing a dozen or so relieved Death Eaters, all of whom let out a breath of relief before vacating the area where a man-size cauldron, Triwizard Cup, Harry Potter's wand, and the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory still remained, eyes gazing blankly ahead.

Upon having his feet slam harshly into the ground on arrival, Voldemort immediately began a brisk pace towards the looming manor, the gates opening with a loud creak to allow him admittance. Nagini hissed in warning, her coils tightening slightly around the unconscious boy, who was beginning to stir – no doubt roused from Apparating.

He reached the manor in a matter of minutes; his bare feet crunching over the stones that made up the arrival path, and barely refraining from snorting at the white peacocks that strutted throughout the front lawn. He swept over the threshold as the boy gave a noticeable twitch in his arms, ignoring the Malfoy matriarch who was hovering by the open doors, no doubt awaiting his arrival.

"My Lord," Lucius - looking a great deal more composed than before - stepped towards him, having been loitering near the twirling staircase. "I will show you to your room."

Inclining his head, he stepped towards the patriarch who had turned as his head lowered, leading the way up the winding staircase, down the mahogany hallway, coming to a halt as he stopped by a pair of double doors, pushing them open before lowering his head in submission.

Stepping into the room, his red eyes roved over the silk sheets of the large double bed, to the fresh ornaments scattered throughout the room, the finely hanging drapes …and snorted.

"Leave us," he hissed, trailing a fine layer of dirt over the beige carpet as he strode further into the room, Nagini detaching herself from the boy in favour of the bed. Lucius gave a stiff nod before hastily retreating, eager to withdraw himself from the intimidating figure. Hearing the door give a quiet _snick_ as it closed, he smirked before relinquishing his hold on the brat, feeling a glimmer of smug satisfaction at the startled grunt Potter emitted upon contact with the ground.

"Wha-"

"My, aren't you eloquent," he smirked, gliding past the boy and to the bed, pulling the disgruntled snake upon his lap. He chuckled lightly at the wide-eyed look he procured from the boy, mouth opening and closing, comparable to that of a fish.

"Vol- you … huh!"

"Even better," he remarked snidely, relishing the way the boy shrank back from him, using his legs as leverage as he pushed against the carpet, desperate to put as much distance as possible between the two.

"What do you want?" a complete sentence finally spewed from the boy's lips, albeit almost incoherent from the way the brat babbled, stuttering with nerves. Potter took a deep breath, steeling himself, before looking around in confusion, a frown creasing at his brows. "And where am I?"

Voldemort remained silent, watching the boy with interest as he attempted to get his bearings, green eyes swivelling around rapidly, his breathing increasing with each passing second. He could faintly see the pulse jumping in the boy's neck, and swallowed back a victorious smirk. Ignoring the boy's question, he spread his arms mockingly, causing the brat to shrink back further. "Harry, Harry, Harry," he sighed, reprimanding the foolish boy. "You need not worry where you are, as you won't be leaving any time soon."

The boy's breathing, if possible, sped up further. He continued to gasp in shallow breaths as he resumed his task of backing away, finally drawing to a stop when his back was pressed up against the wall, eying the Dark Lord who perched so casually on the bed, one hand absentmindedly stroking the large snake still draped across his legs. In the most secure position possible in the current situation, Harry finally gained a hold of breathing and his temper.

"What do you mean I won't be leaving?" he snarled, warily watching the amused man who continued to observe him from across the room. "Oh, no doubt you like to play with your meal before you kill it, or do others do your dirty work? Maybe you should bring some of your grovelling followers here, I'm sure they'd do _anything_ to please you, oh great master!" he scoffed.

Standing so suddenly and nearly dislodging Nagini, Voldemort advanced on the cowering boy who attempted to fold himself into a ball. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, he hauled the boy to his feet, slamming Potter against the wall he had been leaning against. "You will _not_ be leaving this room, Potter!" he hissed, voice barely above a whisper. "Your death may by my intention no longer, but that doesn't mean you're suddenly risk-free! I need your body alive, and that doesn't require a soul!" He suddenly smirked, releasing the shocked boy and stepping back so casually that one would think they were having a delightful chat over tea and biscuits.

The boy, having paled to an amusing shade of white, finally choked out, "what do you mean you need my body alive? I do not belong to y—"

"Belong to me?" Voldemort chuckled, thriving on how unnerved the boy appeared, "Of course you belong to me, Harry, you just don't know why."

"And you won't tell me, right?" the boy growled, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You suddenly went bonkers, or had an epiphany and realised the error of your ways. That's the only thing I know for sure," he nodded solemnly, to clarify his point.

Voldemort remained silent, head tilted to the side as he observed the boy falling apart – unsure of the man's sudden change in demeanour, his thoughts running rampart as he was bombarded with possible reasons.

"I mean," he rambled, reaching up to run a hand through his dark hair in frustration, resulting in an even more dishevelled appearance. "You've obviously made up some silly answer to satisfy me, just so you can satisfy yourself, you sick, perve—"

_WHAM!_

"I grow tired of your excuses to understand," Voldemort growled, one hand squeezed tight around the boys neck, choking off his airways as he attempted to draw in a breath, fingers scrabbling at the hand holding him captive. After the boy coloured to an amusing blue, he loosened his grip, allowing the boy to take grateful gasps of air, though still struggling foolishly in his grasp, glaring hatefully at the man holding him captive.

He leaned in close, his hot breath ghosting over the boy's face, almost feeling the electric spark jump from the brat's skin at the close contact. "Let me make one thing clear enough for even you to understand, Potter," he breathed, the boy slamming his eyes shut in repulsion as the words washed over him. "You belong to me; you are my possession, my property, and mine to do with as I wish."

He released his grip, watching the boy in front of him who shook with barely supressed tremor, and felt nothing be vindictive pleasure. _Boy who lived, indeed._

"You are _nothing_, Harry Potter, but an object."


End file.
